Scars
by whatapanda
Summary: Between mirrors and broken glass there was fear. But there was also the wine and some grains of sand...


He couldn't sleep.

He set his feet on the floor impatiently, feeling the covers slipping down his legs. The wind blew and he could not help but rub his own shoulders for heat. Beneath the insufficient fabric of the yukata, the white skin shivered.

It was not strange to him, and no surprise that any light drizzle that brushed over the Village of the Leaf would punish him like a merciless storm of snowflakes. So accustomed to the heat of the desert, it might indeed be useful to start bringing more efficient blankets every time he needed to leave his country.

But he would not close the window.

And this was not about the cold.

He raised a hand to his eyes. Could still feel his head throbbing lightly, as his friend's voice was still tinkling, bell-chirping in his memory, calling him to a post-work drink.

If repentance could kill, he would be a corpse.

It was quite true that after a stressful week of bureaucracy and relocation a drink wouldn't sound so bad, but it also wouldn't be auspicious at all to drink alcohol in his condition. The biggest problem was that now, staring at the bottle of wine on the bedside table, he could not help but take all that remained in his half-filled glass. And it certainly didn't help.

But this was not about drinking.

And not about regrets.

Near the bed, the fire of a candle, a single candle, burned fast, uneasy. Illuminating, in its effort, the room in a contour of penumbras. He had never liked sleeping in the dark. On nights that he had woken up surrounded by nothing but shadows, panic had settled in his soul like the prick of a poisoned thorn.

The fear of going back into the darkness. The fear of being alone.

Even if it were a small twinkle of light, it would be enough.

But this was not about his demons either.

At least, not those.

He stood up, tightening the belt of the robes around his waist.

Behind the curtains, he could hear the distant sounds of the city. Below him, the village barely slept. It was night, it was dawn, and not even all the poles and buildings burning in the sullen city together could at least confront the splendorous full moon. It was majestic, the queen of the night. Mother of all poets.

Mother of all damned.

It poured over his bed like an illuminated stage.

Sometimes, in his sleepless nights, the silver bath aligned with the melody of his empty thoughts. Sometimes, the simple silence of the dim lights was perfect for rearranging ideas and unburdening his heart.

But not today.

Not when the volcanic eruption on his chest threatened to explode, burning and pulsating in his veins like dimming lava. Not when every particle of his body stirred in profusion. Not when his heart reverberated in his ears, stopping him from even thinking steadily.

Not when the bitterness of the drink came down like a hot stone in the pit of his stomach. And made his eyes burn.

No. He just didn't want to be alone today.

And, well, maybe it was not the wine. The guilty one.

Small, restless shadows poked through the furniture. They danced, accusers, under the surface of the wide triangle hat with the word "Wind", lying above the chair on the right, looking nothing more but the uncomfortable piece of clothing it was. As if it didn't represent the full weight of a nation.

In that moment, it symbolized nothing more than a title he didn't want to wear.

Because, among the red secrets of those dead walls, he would wear no mask.

Not for him. Never for him.

But __he__ wasn't there. Seven days, seven nights, and __he__ wasn't there.

The curtain rippled. He felt observed.

"Is that so?"

He would simply wear his omnipotent cape in the morning and march through the gates, his chin raised and his expression impassive. Empty and cold, like a shell of sand.

And alone.

If that curtain wiggle was affirmation, he felt he didn't miss it.

In fact, what did he expect? Who in the world would submit to that? Coward's promises. Encounters in the shadows. Two sides of the same relationship.

Because secrets were made to remain in darkness.

And there was fear. And insecurity.

And he knew that __he__ would never deserve to be hurt again.

And he could not bear to hurt __him__ again.

But still...

He stared at the window.

"It's over?"

How crazy it would be if the curtain answered him.

But then there was the small sound of a landing against the linoleum parapet, and something more than breeze had entered the dark room. When the familiar sandalwood scent reached his nostrils, his heart rose into his throat.

On the face of the broad and imposing figure, the shadows lit the boy's smile. He could see his shoulders rise and fall with the movement of intense breathing. He breathed heavily, tired; the bandages on his fists were dirty, and the muscles of his arms, which he now left uncovered, were tense.

He knew that soon there would be formal excuses, mumbled in a stupid way that contrasted readily that serious and dangerously attractive figure he had become. But he would not give him a chance. He would not give him time.

With one closed fist, he jabbed out his fist, hitting a hard jaw, and the snapping of his knuckle cartilage against that hard chin bone hurt more than he could imagine. It was like punching a brick wall. The punch didn't tip him. It did not even make him wince as much as he intended. But he didn't care. He did not even care about the wave of electricity that ran through his body in the very first moment the skin of his injured arm was touched, held in place by strong, but gentle, fingers.

"Why? Why did you do that?!" His voice broke in that breath of air and he mentally cursed himself for such instability. But he just could not take it anymore. He tried to pull away from that grip, but he was easily kept in the same place. He had always been the weaker of them at physical strength.

And he was held close, so close he couldn't breathe.

He watched him wipe the blood dripping from his split lip with back of his hand, his eyebrows furrowed, as if he didn't quite understand what had just happened. He breathed in and his black eyes reflected realization, for a moment.

"…Have you been drinking?"

"Of course I've been drinking! What do you think?!" With a tug, he managed to get his arm back. But he knew he got it only because the other had let him go. He'd never liked to hurt him. And he hated how weak and pathetic he became in his presence. "Seven nights ... I thought ... I thought you..."

He smiled, raising his thick eyebrows in understanding, standing where he was. At least now he could get some air into his lungs.

"Forgive me. I was on a mission..."

"That's a lie," he cut off, closing his eyes and feeling the strength drain from his body. The wave of relief for once more glimpsing that beloved silhouette in the darkness, cooling his body and making his knuckles throb "Naruto would have said."

"It was a secret one." He could see it. He could read him as well as a sheet of paper. "I would never do that to you, Gaara."

And he knew he was telling the truth. No, he would never do it. He would never lie about it. He would never leave him. Alone. In that condition. He is here. As real as in his deepest daydreams. He is here.

So he approached in silent, almost dead steps, taking that masculine jaw that the time and maturity had carved.

He had always been the most beautiful being he had ever known. Owner of a rudimentary beauty, the whole body carved in hard work and large black eyes reflecting dreams like coal. And not only his complexion fascinated him. It was also about the way he acted, the way he spoke. How he smiled.

God, he had him melting like hot sand, in the palm of his calloused hands.

"I missed you, Lee."

xLeex

He stroked his hurt chin for a second, stunned by the impact.

Before him, surrounded by the blackness of thick dark circles, his gaze, as jade as it was, gleamed tearfully under the faint twinkle of yellowish light. Hurt eyes, no doubt. Stars that cried. In a silent prayer. And an even more muted request.

A sign that would easily escape the perception of any unfortunate viewer.

But not of a passionate one.

They say the rain smells like the desert. Maybe that was why his smell reminded him of wet earth.

And... this time there was wine.

He watched him walk away as he accused him, and he allowed it. And so he kept still. He knew his crises as he knew his limits. He had known that this would unleash it and so hated himself for it. It shouldn't be him, of all people, to break him again.

"I would never do that to you, Gaara."

The bare skin of his chest stood out, almost ghostly, slowly calming beneath the dark fabric that dyed his robes. If he had eyebrows, they would be scowling, disgusted, to match the thin line pressed by his pale, disgruntled lips. His fire hair perfectly tamed behind his ears were the perfect frame for the fine contour that highlighted the nobility of his features.

His cheeks were flushed, and perhaps not by the drink. Perhaps not even by anger.

He felt soft palms that had never needed brute force before on his face, and the gentle approach of the handsome face made his heart fail.

He was all desire and all temptation.

And, above all, it was those green eyes.

Glass eyes, which could freeze fires and melt icebergs.

Filled with a charm as mortal as immortality itself.

With a glow as predatory as it was insecure. The force that could destroy you and at the same time make you cry, not out of fear, but because it was beautiful, and powerful, and so sad.

"I missed you, Lee."

xGaarax

And then, on an impulse as risky as a leap into the sea, he let himself sink into the flavor of those apple-like lips that made him so restless on summer nights.

And it had wine and it had blood.

He could feel the arms closing around him, that mouth close to his, exploring and sucking his taste. He hardly remembered some cold shiver that already crossed his spine or the hunger on that tongue, which sought his own with violence. Wanting him with such a strength that his own eagerness didn't know.

And the world, why had it stopped spinning?

He retreated for a moment with a push, until his back hit heavily against the nearest wall, continuing to kiss him with premeditated desperation. The weight of that body and the fury of those lips was all that made him crumble and hold back at the same time. It was always like this between them. Everything was so intense with the most passionate ninja of Konoha.

The fabric he wore was damp, whether it was by the drizzle or even by sweat, but he could feel the warmth of those hands running down his bare body through the gaps of his clothing, making him shudder. No matter how cold it was, that body was always warm. And insatiable.

He allowed himself to pull in some of the air that he'd lost before as the tongue slid out of his mouth and slipped, hungry, down his jawline toward his chin. He sucked at it hard, making sucking movements on that sensitive part, that were easily directed at another sensitive part, fueled by imagination.

What could he do? This man drove him and provoked him madly. In a dance between scavengers and snakes, the surge of instant numbness that spread through his body prevented him from doing anything but whimper.

At the gentle sliding of a rough finger over his stiffened nipple, he clamped his hand in the black hair and pulled.

xLeex

He could feel a groan against his mouth as he held him against the wall. That body softened with so much desire and satisfaction. And he was kissing him. By god, he was just kissing him. Gaara was just like that; his sensitivity could easily drive him mad. He felt that if he only pressed a little harder he would be able to leave eternal red marks over the alabaster skin, but, in fact, he didn't care when the redhead rubbed and purred for so little, like a cat in heat.

Let it mark, then. Let the white turn red. Let the mouth turn purple and swollen. While the chest arched beneath him and the fingernails lingered in desperation at the skin of the back of his head, he knew he was on the right path in that needy body.

When hands were busy with nipples, he clenched his teeth against sucked skin, whistling as the fingers twisted in his hair, strands pulled with ferocity, taking him toward the parted lips. And to restart, without returning to the beginning, that exciting game.

xGaarax

He ripped out the damn scarf with his teeth. That annoying piece of cloth was disturbing the path of his mouth. Pressing against the lobe, he brushed his warm breath in the sensitive ear. Tentatively he plunged the tip of his tongue into the shallow crack, growling in agony. His hand was supporting the face as the male thigh slipped between his wobbly legs, pushing against his evident erection in strong motions.

God, how hard it was to focus on anything with that volume of friction pressing against his hips. He bit hard where he licked, scratching at the tanned skin as he dragged his teeth lightly, holding himself wherever he could. When he could. Heavens help him.

The way he pushed against his groin made his stomach contort into a butterfly's frenzy. His head was spinning and his equilibrium was uncertain. Never in his entire life had he felt so affected by someone. That body fit so perfectly with his that he wanted to cry.

"Oh yes..."

Then he rubbed over his lover's leg, the deep groan emerged, exciting him tremendously from top of his head to his toes.

xLeex

He could feel him shaking. And he could feel him stirring, in protest. The white hands pushed and the pink tongue slid down his throat as he staggered backward onto a smooth, unlined sheet surface. The redhead came out of his corner and rode him, kneeling around his legs. The green eyes in flames, watching him from above.

"Oh shit..."

xGaarax

The battered yukata opened, dropping like a blanket over his trembling, and probably stained in red, shoulders. Secured only by the belt, it hung open, exposing all his swollen, aching shame while that dark gaze seemed to burn beneath him. But when the other made a gesture to move, he held his hands so he couldn't touch. He heard him grumble and didn't care. Because he knew what he wanted... and, goddamn it, he wanted it now.

So he threw the brunet back against the bed and sneaked up to the zipper of those strange clothes, which marked one by one all the fullness of that magnificent body. He pulled it between his teeth, in a speed even torturous to himself. Overwhelmed, Lee let out a quick puff as he felt the slow phantom of the nose going down across his chest to the base of his hips. A silky touch pushed away the fabric, freeing the olive skin.

He buried his face in that heat and simply allowed himself to breathe in... The texture, the smell, the taste. He had missed it so much that it hurt. The scars across the chest and shoulders were deep, and there were many. Because he tried so hard...

He kissed them one by one and licked them. Because he would love and he would want all those imperfections that made him his.

He could feel the manly thorax rising and falling as his pulse quickened with each movement, and he heard a whimper sound as he bit his crotch, close to the strip of dark hair underneath the belly button, leaving his mark there. His possession. He pretended have some control of the situation, although it was minimal.

He slid until his knees hit the floor and his mouth was on the same level with the bulge that was exploding in his grip. He could clearly see the outline of the dick through the fine gym mesh and felt his own erection throb with the dry sensation that gripped in his mouth, inhaling the strong scent of pure male arousal that surrounded him.

With a slight hip lift he was helped to remove those last cloth layers and gasped loudly as it rose in his vision, huge, red and leaking wildly all around the tip. His whole body shuddered with utter excitement when a loud growl echoed through the walls of the room as he mouthed as much as he could of that thick appendage.

xLeex

He had to close his teeth to avoid screaming. He put his arms over his face, holding on as best he could so as to not just come in that velvety cavity that sucked him so hard, the hands knowing, skillful, playing between the shaft and his heavy balls.

"Fuck, Gaara ..."

And the movement stopped. He leaned up on his elbows, risking a look down to see the glowing gaze directed at him. Abandoned, his phallus throbbed.

The other had brought his own fingers to his mouth, soaking them openly on his tongue in an absurdly obscene expression. He stared at him in self-exposure and provocation.

"You'll pay for this..."

He smiled.

"But not now, baby."

xGaarax

That weight on his tongue, that smell, those sounds. He felt ecstatic, able to come purely in realization. He was sinking slowly, soft but strong, swallowing all that volume in the rhythm of the delicious moans that came from the open mouth. He felt the whole body shudder beneath him, the sweat moisten shapely thighs where he had nailed his fingers in an attempt to control himself.

His tongue slid over his hand in the midst of the privileged stare of that face rising out in the horizon of honey and ebony, holding his breath.

And fuck, how excited he was to be watched like that.

"You'll pay for this..."

Because the weight of that animal gaze, clouded with pure desire, desire for him and no one else, made the last drop of sanity that still permeated his mind evaporate.

"But not now, baby."

Relaxing his throat, he took him in his mouth so deep that he could feel the dark hair brush against his nose as he slowly inserted a finger, feeling him twitch and scream his name in response. Removing his lips, he stroked his tongue across his glans. And looked up. He was sitting propped up, his face beautifully flushed and contorted, sometimes hanging his neck back, the hands clenched against the bed with such pleasure.

And he let himself smile and let himself moan. It was always like this. He moaned, whimpered, screamed, collapsed... Lee was so intense in everything he did. So pure. So beautiful.

He delighted in teasing him. He had never loved so much. Never had given himself so much.

xLeex

God, what was that man doing to him? How could a simple touch make him collapse like that? He lacked strength. He lacked air. He lacked the will to continue resisting everything. He could feel the heat of excitement curling around his hips. He couldn't stand anymore.

He felt the second finger twist inside him, massaging the right spot, and in seconds that seemed like some tortured eternity, his back lifted and his muscles stiffened. With a deep scream, he let himself spill into that delicious mouth that swallowed to the last drop, with voluptuousness.

"Gaara...!"

xGaarax

Ah, that was music to his ears. His gorgeous creature was melting beautifully on his pillows, his skin gleaming under a thin layer of sweat. For him. Because of him. Just for him. As he restored the air that was trying to escape from his lungs, he traversed a path of kisses on the inside of the trembling thigh, proving every kind of taste of the one who belonged to him.

Next to the knee, he stopped. Another scar. He frowned. It was longer and deeper, stretching across the calf, almost ... surgical.

The immediate recognition swept over him with an icy chill. Bringing memories he'd like to forget ... Memories from a dark time. From a murderous being capable of taking the life of all that he loved most. From a need of taste blood to feed his inner demon.

It was all he had. All that he was. All that remained.

He slightly touched all over the mark, in a silent and slow caress.

That was his scar. He had caused that pain. He had risked taking his dreams, erasing the glow of those eyes. Forever... With no masks or disguises. No conscience.

And no forgiveness.

He hurt him once. Deep and eternal. What right did he have to look into those eyes and ask to love him?

He swallowed.

Once they called him a monster... yes, and maybe he was. But there was no more hate within him. He did not want to fight. Not with Lee, nor with himself. Nor with his inner demons.

He just wanted to be in his arms.

Could he?

As small as it was, a mere remnant of doubt was enough to make his heart bleed and crumble like a sand castle swept by the evening waves.

That was when a hand caressed his hair, leading him to look up. The face was tired, but tender. He looked at him as if he could feel the hesitation reverberate through the skin at his last touch. He hugged him as if he could feel him crack on his last breath.

And, in fact, he did. But the body that held him was solid, and real.

And he wouldn't go anywhere.

He let himself be led over to the bed and sank into the pillows. He leaned over him, but didn't touch; instead his lips simply closed and lingered over the red scar on his forehead, making the green eyes fill.

Even when all he deserved was nothing but contempt, he and he alone would be able to provide all the tenderness in the world. Even if he wanted to, even if he asked for it, he would never leave him alone again.

xLeex

Lost in mist and pleasure, he couldn't say how long it had been until the treacherous silence brought him back to his senses. And he sat down. The other was so deep in thought and trembling that he had not even noticed his approach.

He knew what frightened him, knew what he feared.

He knew the uncertainty that filled his darkest thoughts.

When he touched him, the disbelief in those eyes broke his heart. More than anything, he wanted him to know how much he cared. How much he wished him well. He wanted him to realize that beyond forgiveness, he deserved love. And he relieved himself by feeling the male shoulders relax a little under the weight of his arms.

He laid him down and kissed him. The hair, the stigma, the face. And he could feel his own lips grow wet as he kissed the dark zone around his eyes.

"I love you… Don't doubt that, please."

xGaarax

He couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe. He saw the mouth move again, and even if the only possible sound was his heart pulsing violently in his ears, he knew those words and that they were for him, and only for him.

This was not a dream.

He held him tight, taking his lips and giving him all he has. Every drop of his being. Connecting tongues, hands and teeth in relief. In desperation. In love.

And there was still the wine and there was still the blood.

But there would always be blood, wouldn't there?

Because he was brutal, and yet he was so gentle.

So, there was sweetness too. Though mixed with tear salt.

And heart warmth.

He wrapped his legs around his waist, tying himself to him, to get lost on the threshold of that urgency. He felt him thrust back, hard, against him, and in that wild friction he let go the groan trapped in the back of his throat.

Sharp nails ran down the sides of curved backs, making the hellfire dance through the red-washed paths left behind. One more mark. He arched, hissing loudly as the teeth landed on his collarbone in response. Another scar.

"More..."

He gripped his shoulders like a castaway to a lifesaving table. Their mouths framed together, fighting on their own battlefield. A mouth that he had always tasted with blood and sun, but still he knew that no stain would be left by the morning unless he wanted it there.

He took the pendant from his neck - one that tickled on his chest, one he had bought for him years ago - and pulled it until he understood what he was begging for. What he needed there. Until his legs were firmly apart and he could hardly reason with such pleasure.

"Please, more..."

xLeex

He could feel his erection throbbing again, alive and aggressive, thirsty for the one whimpering beneath him. He bit his lip. He had never seen anything so delicious in his life. The frantic look on his face, so sexy. So needed. He would ask, practically scream, for more and you bet he would. Oh yes, he was dangling dangerously on the edge of a cliff with nothing ahead beyond the abyss.

"But not now, baby."

The green eyes widened briefly, in recognition of his own words, and he couldn't deny that he was so overwhelmed with such willpower to extend this further. But he wanted to make him feel good, and he still hadn't gotten to the half of what he could provide.

And, with his eyes on the bedside table, he decided. He couldn't deny that restoring his torture would be more delightful.

He took advantage of the brief moment without reaction to lean in, pressing his lips against the exposed neck, breathing warmly over the sensitive spot as he him turned over on his belly.

His arm reached out and caught the forgotten bottle in his hands, a movement that went unnoticed by the other until he felt drops dripping down his back. He pinched the skin before dragging his tongue down the spine, tasting all the colors and flavors. The bitterness of wine. The sweet of skin. The salt of sweat.

The man was purring, completely into those unexpected strokes, letting out sighs and grunts from those swollen lips. So, in a sudden movement, the right hand snapped open, flattening against the fleshy skin of his butt, leaving the perfect scarlet five-fingerprint.

Instinctively, the redhead arched in fright, poking back and letting himself show off. Satisfied, he parted him with firm hands of restrained desire, so that he could see all, open and ready for him. He stared, for a moment, at the trembling red surface in front of him, and then the head hung, and those eyes followed him to the end of his damp trajectory. Frowning. Anxious. Lascivious.

Damn, fucking obscene eyes.

"So perfect..."

And he took the last swallow of wine, silencing as his tongue twitched along the dimple just before sliding through the soft slit.

xGaarax

The right side of his hip tingled intensely. He could feel the flesh protesting in ecstasy about the weight of the slap that struck him, so full. His legs tensed at the approach of those lips on his sensitive part, and when he looked at him through all his intimate exposure, he already controlled the moan before the other even touched him.

Well, he was a damn exhibitionist. What could he do?

And when the sensation came, he squirmed like a trapped animal, no longer containing the sounds, almost to the point of echoing through the walls. If it hadn't been for the hands that held him at this angle, he would have already melted like hot wax onto the surface of the mattress.

Still airing (airing might not be the right word here - "thinking" maybe? Like the words still floating in his head - Hmm... thinking, considering, wondering... absently working? unconsciously thinking? Are any of these going in the right direction of the feeling you're going for?) through the words he had heard, the butterflies returned. He felt them shoot into his stomach again, fluttering madly, his heart pounding in his chest. And he knew. And he admitted. He was completely in love with this man. Dangerously in love. All this was as risky as walking on thin ice. And it still felt so good. So right.

"Oh, Lee..."

He could barely make enough air reach his lungs. He was shaking, and completely surrounded by all the male presence above him. Totally intoxicated. And stunned. He didn't want more games, at least not tonight. All he wanted was to let the ice crack and drown himself in those icy waters.

He made a move to turn over, and he didn't hold him and didn't stop him, still standing erect, on his knees, where he was. The reverberation of the red and orange glow of the small candle reflected in his lustful eyes and illuminated every crease, every muscle protuberance that marked that delightful body. The heat emanating between them was intense, almost tangible, then he raised his arms, bringing that face close to him, brushing his lips over the skin and allowing himself to smell the apple breath that had turned to grape.

So handsome... So perfect...

And he felt the hands caress him. The face buried in his neck, in a strong inhale beneath the irritated skin.

"You smell so good," he heard him say softly as he pushed his way past the collarbone until the chest. "Why do you smell so good?" He surrounded a nipple, dragging his nose along skin. "God, Gaara... It's just cross by you in a hall and I'm already hard as a rock," he whispered drunkenly.

He was talking about his scent, but his aroma wasn't all that completely trapped him. A touch that burned and a closeness that made him sprout all the insane emotions unknown and, frankly, terrifying, inside him.

"Lee, please..." He moved against him, looking for some friction that would ease him somehow with the movement of his hips. "I need."

And he could not tell what flash of feeling showed in that half-zigzagging curl of lips, followed by a slight push out of the bed. He returned quickly, tossing the lube in his hands, leaning against the bedside, then.

"Do it." He looked at him, full of lust. "Do it for me."

And he felt himself shivering at that order.

Fucking hell, the bastard knew him well.

When it was sweet, a brute arrived. And all the wildness.

It was a rough romance. A fierce affection.

From kiss to bite. From wine to blood.

A provocation with no end. And it was those changes, he knew, that matched them so well. Because only in his extreme and unbridled eagerness for that man did he madly alternate desires between caresses and scrapes. The force that made him collapse pathetically with a single glance was the same that would made him beg to be fucked hard and meaningless, treated as his own little bitch.

He licked his lips.

"Tell me, Gaara... What do you want?"

xLeex

It was true that he was weak with drinks, but that little alcohol insinuation was not enough to make him feel a little more than dizzy. The faint cushioning sensation was good and made him feel like he was floating in some kind of limbo between heaven and hell as the skin of that demon-angel's face blushed in front of him, with the most lascivious expression he had ever witnessed in his life.

Green stared at him, translucent as a broken mirror, with an intensity that he could swear emanated flames of pure instigation. Silently, his foot dragged to rest stretched out on the edge of the bed. The redhead leaned, fell back, moaning as he felt his own wet fingers moving around his hole.

"I want..."

He inserted the first, pushing until the last knuckle. He saw him shake and let the air out in a gasp, feeling himself harden to the limit.

"I want you ... so deep ..." the voice faltered in the midst of the horny "in my ... hmm ..." he grunted, raising his hips.

His own red dick was pulsing so hard he had to rub it for relief, the liquid dripping, trickling in his hand. He was so out of his mind and all he did was stare.

"Lee..."

His back muscles fully lifted from the bed as the second finger penetrated him, the third already probing while he growled. He could be easily confused with the white of the crumpled sheet, if the silk of his skin hadn't been marked in red.

And if not for the shine, fierce, of the green in his eyes.

His jaw clenched in agony. Ok, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

His angel hissed as he spoke, burying his three fingers in his body, his long legs spread as far as he could, his wet erection leaping from the mattress as he fucked himself. And moaned. As if his body needed it.

And when he heard those lips saying his name again, there was no longer room for self-control.

xGaarax

He trembled. For the fiftieth time that night, his body responded, submissive and obedient, all the stimuli that the close presence provided. He thanked the heavens to be lying down because he felt himself falling, physically and literally. Everything in that man sucking and swallowing down everything that was left in him.

He felt his own skin tighten against the fingers in voluptuousness as he watched him drip the lube around himself. His hands in heavy movements up and down around the glans as he devoured him with his gaze. He was flawless, perfection. The mere thought that someone as exorbitant as Lee could love him was overwhelming.

And he held out his free hand to him, in a call.

"Come here."

xLeex

He could not help but moan as he moved, staggering, to straddle him, as he had ordered. That whole body so firm, so outlined, so close, friction against his as he positioned himself. The scent of desert, love and sex possessing him completely and blocking all his senses.

The luscious edge of his cock pressed and rubbed against the inviting hole of the redhead in his position. He reached firmly along the sides of his belly, growling as he leaned in to push.

"Kiss me... I want your mouth on me while I fuck you."

xGaarax

Too much. All that was too much. Every word and every touch that came from him was enough to make him powerless and crazy. He whimpered in excitement. Their warm tongues caressing and touching each other as he felt the pressure on his bottom. He wanted more. A lot more.

He felt his lip caught between teeth, as the pressure on his sides let him slide down into the swollen tip. He threw his arms around the stiff neck, his belly exploding in fire, his body slowly feeling full again.

Even the initial burning of the stretched skin drew him into a wave of intermittent pleasure as he heard him moan his name.

The steam of a hot breath stung his face as he fell apart. Though his dark gaze showed such little sanity, he smiled as he realized that he was waiting for him to guide and begin his movements, as soon as he felt comfortable. Although the fists attached to his waist were almost whitening with the force as they tightened.

So abrupt, and still lovely.

"Ah..."

He slowly slid all that size out, and came back again, starting his steady ride. Amazing. He felt completely entranced. He allowed his head to fall on the shoulder in front of him, hugging it, lost in the intensity of having him so close. So intimate.

"Ah..."

He grunted as he felt bandaged hands filling, parting his ass and gradually increasing his strength in his thrusts.

"Gaara... I can not take it anymore."

And he knew, he had already secured himself enough.

xLeex

He felt the mute response as he let himself sink to the urge of his budging. Holding himself up, he tucked in the sensitive body that screamed. His hands, desperate for support, found safety at the headboard of solid wood, while the bed beat on the wall, rhythmic by his movements. To hell with the neighbors at this point.

He would fuck him. And he would fuck him now.

He wrapped his fist around his dick, when he saw it completely neglected, pumping at each deep thrust of his hips. The low voice screamed around his name like a beautiful melody. And made him arch back, pulling through his hair, to find his hungry mouth. The increasingly loud sounds of bare wet skin slamming filling the room.

And he took a deep breath.

It was not enough. He needed more. He needed the fire of those basilisk eyes wanting him to burn. Trying to cut him. Sharpened into blades like the shards they were.

He turned him, sinking even more. Burning even more. Masturbating even more.

"Look at me!"

Oh God, where had all the control gone?

"Look at me, Gaara, while I fuck you!"

xGaarax

The movements were accelerating, and increasing, and echoing. It was too much. Oh, my God, it was too much. He let his head hang back, moaning and rolling in the up and down of that male hand against his swollen cock. He was so big, so wonderfully big. He felt the fire rise inside him as if consuming both of them.

Lost in his satisfaction, he had not even realized he'd closed his eyes until the other said it. And he obeyed.

The body above him dropped small drops of golden sweat on the pale surface of his belly, his thick eyebrows creased. His abdominal muscles were intent on every thrust, and he no longer knew if he could feel the skin where he squeezed tightly, holding him. But he did not care.

He looked at him. He was there. Beautiful, sweaty and heavy.

And he was not going anywhere.

He grabbed him by the hair, clutching with his nails, bringing his panting lips close as he pushed fast, swirling against the volume that fucked him, hard and deep. The warm hand came down and up all the way, and he struggled not to let himself go.

So deep. So close.

He hit his open hand against his tanned cheek, and the high-pitched noise echoed loudly in his blaze. An animal hiss followed as he ran his fingernails across the length of his bare chest, and he stiffened. Deeper. Faster. Febrile. Insane.

"Oooh, yes! There!"

He shivered. And he cried. And he arched. And he screamed.

Every fiber of his body convulsing in the midst of that wave of pain mingled with pleasure, that approached so drastically and violently.

He could feel it so close. So deep. Oh no.

"Lee ... Lee ... I'm going to..."

xLeex

His face was burning and the nails clenched in his chest in excruciating ways. He could feel that skin sliding, squeezing him more and more. The body tensed and arched, and so he insisted on that point such millimeters from cracking. The sweat trickling down by his back.

"Ooh, yes! There!"

He bit down on white.

The blood came, the wine came. And the fire came.

Holy mother of fuck!

"Lee... Lee... I'm going to..."

"Come!" He hissed through his teeth. "Come for me!"

And he came, shaking violently as he shouted his name. The hot, erupting liquid gushed beneath his hands and the fingers scratched on his back as he felt himself pouring completely into him.

Their lips searched each other, trembling, hot, breathless, numbed by the orgasm that was still present. But that touch was so delicate. Without teeth or snakes, tired, they only allowed themselves to kiss.

And in that sea, so green, so white, he let himself sink.

But the sea smelled like desert. And the white was red. And the eyes were made of mirror.

To freeze fires and melt icebergs.

Snow and fire. Pain and power. Hot and cold.

And all the love in the world.

"I'm so in love with you..."

xGaarax

He allowed himself to breathe in the midst of that avalanche so full of emotions, relief, and some tiredness. He said he loved him, and he would love him back. And all his brutality, and all his kindness.

And all that beauty.

Because everything would be all right as long as he was capable of lightening his darkness.

He snuggled, lazily, in that soft embrace, as if he wanted to lie down, but didn't want to sleep.

He wanted to ask him to stay. By God, the moon would bear witness to the fact that one word was enough, just a single word and he would commit madness and belong exclusively to him. But he knew, inside, he would never ask it. Because, unlike himself, he was not selfish.

He was never selfish.

And when the morning came, and the endowment of the heavy toga would make him Kazekage again, from that secret meeting would remain nothing but dust. Just the scars. And some grains of sand.

But here, only between the violence of teeth and the caress of lips, he would allow himself to give in, completely. Because his life could belong to the Land of Sand, and he knew it did, but his soul had long since been given over to the green beast of Konoha.

Because, under the burning touch of those injured hands and weight of that imperfect body, his ebony eyes conveyed the greater sincerity than he had ever seen in his life. Then he took that damp hair between his fingers, sinking his nose into that rigid trapeze that smelled of man, blood, and sweat.

There's no more cold. The candle went out. But he was not afraid.

Not today.

Because that body was solid and real.

And he would not go anywhere.

"I love you, Lee."

And if there were gods anywhere, he only begged them to listen to his prayers. May morning not come. May the sun not rise.

Because by night he was a lover. By day, a fake.

And, though the darkness could conceal many things, its solitude could be overcome by a minimal flash of light.


End file.
